


Don't Ask

by vensre



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vensre/pseuds/vensre
Summary: "What if I were a sorcerer?"





	Don't Ask

**Author's Note:**

> I pretty much always write as though the show stopped after season 1. 
> 
> Thanks to [themadlurker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadlurker/) for looking this over, and to [lunchee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchee/) for the long-ago WIP Killer challenge that prompted me to actually finish something.

   


"What if I were a sorcerer?"

There were tears all down Merlin's face, ash from the pyre clinging to his hair.

"What would you have done, if it were me?"

Arthur just looked at him, shook his head abruptly. "Don't talk about that."

Merlin looked back until Arthur turned away.

   


* * *

  


"What if I were a sorcerer?" Merlin whispered under the night sounds of frogs, tipsy on melomel one wet-hot summer night.

"You're an idiot," Arthur told him, equally quiet. "You know I can't give you an answer you'd like. It's not safe even to ask that."

Merlin huffed and rested his cheek on Arthur's knee. "You haven't thrown me in the dungeon yet. Apart from a couple of times."

"How much of that have you had?" Arthur asked, sighing. "Give the bottle here."

   


* * *

  


"But Arthur. What if?"

"Merlin."

Merlin pulled a face, prodding Arthur's bare shoulder with his scrubby thing. "I think it's worse to never talk about something. Makes it... I dunno. Scarier."

"It's not a matter of fearing it. It's just **illegal**. You know what it means to have a king? It means he controls what his subjects can do."

"What if something wasn't right—"

"The king gets to decide what's right," Arthur snapped, then, softer, "I want to rinse the soap out."

"You can't really believe that." Merlin poured the waiting pitcher of warm water over Arthur's hair, careful to keep it from running into his eyes. "About deciding what's right. Right doesn't come from orders or laws. You just feel it."

"This is the way it has to be," said Arthur, and would hear no more.

   


* * *

  


"What if—"

"I wish you wouldn't ask me that."

"How do you know what I was going to say?"

Arthur glared. "Because I know you." He wiped his face where the ichor had splattered up, shuddering slightly. "You and your abysmal timing."

"My timing is fine. Just because there's exploded monster parts everywhere..."

Arthur let out a bark of amusement, then glanced around quellingly as though looking for the miscreant who laughed. "I think it's clear that when we've just narrowly escaped a dangerous situation 'like magic' it's a bad time to discuss sorcery."

"You'd say that anytime."

"You're right, I would. Your head may not be good for much but I expect it works better still attached to the rest of you."

"Smooth talker," Merlin said, and Arthur burst out laughing, wringing his gory hands.

   


* * *

  


"What if I were a sorcerer?"

Arthur's eyes were trained on the scene outside the window that had once been Morgana's: the cleanup of another fresh execution, this time a man Arthur's own age. They flickered at the question, showing something bleaker than his already grim mood. Merlin was drawing breath to speak again when Arthur said, "No **more** ," so sharply that Merlin jumped, though his voice was low. "You'll stop bringing up this — this _nonsense_. You must have a death wish to pose the question at all, but I can't see you out there." Arthur gestured down at the square. "He might spare me from the block for association with magic-users if you were convincingly accused. Nothing could make him spare you."

"But—"

"In my father's kingdom, you don't speak of it. Do you understand me?" Arthur caught Merlin's wrist, pinning him tightly in place. "Do you _understand?_ "

Merlin could only nod, slightly frantic, and then the bruising grip relaxed.

It would have been easier, then, to flee the room — or storm out, in Arthur's case, since he'd never admit to retreating — but Arthur sighed, and slid down the wall to sit on the cool stone floor. He looked up at Merlin, undemanding now. Merlin hesitated, but after a moment joined him, and they stayed there side by side, shoulders lightly touching, talking of anything else until the sun was gone.

   


* * *

  


"What if I—"

Arthur interrupted firmly, "Don't ask," and Merlin's face fell. Arthur turned to face him, came to stand right in front of him, his expression strange but steady beneath the heavy, unfamiliar crown. "No more questions, no more hypotheses," Arthur said. "Tell me."

"Arthur," Merlin said, confused, entreating, then took a couple of deep breaths and straightened his shoulders. "Arthur, I'm a sorcerer. I've been using magic to guard you and help you since the day I became your servant."

Arthur was silent for a long moment, his eyes intent. He took both of Merlin's hands; Merlin allowed the intimate, curiously formal hold. "Thank you," Arthur said at last, at _last_ , "for waiting for me."

Merlin gaped, dropped the new king's hands, and threw himself into Arthur's embrace.


End file.
